"No; we couldn't wait," chimed in Craft. "I do believe I dreamed of nothing but ozone, dead cats, chemistry, and the like, all night. I am, in fact, weary for want of sleep." Cobb did the honors of his house, and soon all three were quietly sitting, and sending clouds of smoke airily toward the ceiling. "Any news at the club?" inquired Cobb of Craft. "Nothing out of the usual run. Dilly, the young one from the Point, and the others are working hard at a game of cinch." "A good night for a quiet game, or for a quiet chat, too," said Hathaway. "Yes," said Cobb; "but would you rather play cinch to remaining here and listening to what I have to say?" "Oh, no, my dear boy; excuse us. I left them all in their glory, and hunted up Craft, that we might the sooner get here, for I have no doubt that you have some remarkable disclosures to make to-night." "You are right; I have--and some that will probably strike you as being the most fanciful and, perhaps, untenable, you have ever heard," returned the other, looking his two listeners in the eye. "Let that be seen in the future," they both exclaimed. "What is your pay?" abruptly asked Cobb, after a moment's silence. "You ought to know--$1,500 a year." "And yours the same?" to Craft, "both being dismounted officers." "Certainly; and a mighty small sum for a man to put on style, go to parties, and send bouquets and the like, I assure you," returned that personage. "And mine is but a trifle more. We are all poor, impecunious gentlemen, are we not?" "Yes, decidedly so, I fear; for I am not aware that either of us has anything outside of his pay," answered Craft. "And what are our chances for promotion? The way things go now, I will have to serve fifty years to become a colonel. Of course, I cannot serve that long, as I would be over the maximum age," gloomily broke in Hathaway. "It is even so, gentlemen," and Cobb knocked the ashes from his cigar. "Promotion in the army is so exceedingly slow that none of us can expect to reach a colonelcy; in fact, the most that is before us is a majority. Here we are, gentlemen of thirty and thirty-five years of age, giving our lives and brains to this government for a paltry $2,000 a year. I, for one, intend to remedy this sad state of affairs," and he arose and walked across the room in an impatient manner. The others watched him curiously. His manner of action spoke volumes, and indicated plainly that there was something he had to tell them in conjunction with his remarks. Cobb strode nervously across the room for a minute, then suddenly approaching the table, he filled to the brim a glass with whisky from one of the decanters. Raising it to his lips to drink its contents, he suddenly paused, and begging the pardon of his guests, invited them to join him. His thoughts were not upon his actions. "Listen," he exclaimed, as their glasses were laid upon the table; "are you ready to give me your strictest attention?"